Charlemagne

Going Dutch

How the Netherlands fell out of love with Europe

REMEMBER the shock of May 29th 2005, when the French rejected the draft European Union constitution by 55% to 45%? Yet this was largely a vote against an unpopular president, Jacques Chirac, and against the forces of globalisation. Far more worrying for Brussels was the even bigger majority, 61% to 39%, by which voters in the Netherlands rejected the EU constitution three days later. A resentful bolshiness from the French seems unsurprising, almost routine. But the Dutch are placid, stolid—and, surely, reliably pro-European, whatever the issue.

Clearly not then. And it is not hard to detect tensions in Dutch society now. Just stop a few passers-by of an April morning on Dam square in Amsterdam. Within ten minutes one finds somebody like Pieter, a graphic designer who confirms that he voted no, and adds that his big fear was the loss of Dutch identity. A banner hangs helpfully from the nearby Nieuwe Kerk, which is staging an exhibition on Afghanistan, proclaiming (in English) that “A nation stays alive when its culture stays alive”.

Over the past 60 years the Netherlands has been one of Europe's biggest success stories. The Dutch are among the richest (and tallest) people on earth. Their social tolerance is widely admired. Yet immigration and the rise of Islam have triggered a backlash. Rotterdam may soon become the EU's first big Muslim-majority city. The meteoric political career of Pim Fortuyn, a populist who was assassinated in 2002, followed two years later by the murder of Theo van Gogh, a film-maker, by a (Dutch-born) Islamist radical has left scars on a society that once took pride in its embrace of multiculturalism. The Netherlands is a place that is now palpably fretful about its future.

There were other reasons for the Dutch no. Frans Timmermans, the Europe minister, says that the Netherlands was always pro-European, but not always in favour of European institutions. The Dutch dreamt up the Council of Ministers, to give national governments a say. In early years their main goal was to get Britain in. They were strongly pro-American and pro-NATO. Indeed, Mr Timmermans suggests that the late 1980s and early 1990s, when the Dutch were among the keenest Europeans, were exceptional. Piet Dankert, then Europe minister, drafted a version of the Maastricht treaty that was too federalist even for Luxembourg (it was rejected). His prime minister, Ruud Lubbers, aspired to the presidency of the European Commission. It was not long before a more sceptical view reasserted itself.

It was helped by several changes in the European landscape. The biggest was a switch in the EU budget, which within a few years in the mid-1990s turned the Netherlands from a substantial net beneficiary into the biggest net contributor per head. Gerrit Zalm, a liberal who served as finance minister for most of the 13 years up to 2007, repeatedly banged the drum about this, fostering the impression of a profligate (and perhaps corrupt) EU largely paid for by worthy Dutch burghers.

For a while Mr Zalm's party was led by an even more formidable critic of Brussels, Frits Bolkestein. Mr Bolkestein, who later served as the single-market commissioner, was (and is) a fierce critic of EU red tape, of its growing role in judicial and home affairs and, above all, of the prospect of Turkey one day being a member. Although far from being a Eurosceptic of a British stripe, he helped to create an atmosphere in which criticism of Brussels is acceptable—even popular.

In the run-up to the 2005 referendum, two other factors played a part. One was the euro, which was widely blamed for pushing up prices and eroding savings. An anti-euro mood was encouraged by Mr Zalm's denunciation of the French and Germans for ignoring the stability-pact limits on budget deficits. As Mr Timmermans puts it, the conclusion drawn by Dutch voters was that “if a small country breaks the rules, it is punished; if a large one does, the rules are punished.”

The second was the curious inertia of the government. This was the first national referendum in modern Dutch history. Yet the government made little effort, relying on the support of the main political parties, most of the press and big business. Mr Timmermans says that it was “the worst referendum campaign ever”. Yet most political analysts have little doubt what would happen if the Lisbon treaty, the constitution's successor, were put to a vote: it would be resoundingly rejected again. Fortunately for the new treaty, if not for the Dutch, the government has decided not to hold another referendum. Yet that decision may merely aggravate voters' disenchantment with the EU.

The end of Benelux solidarity

It is all a far cry from the dreams of Benelux, the economic union of the three low countries that true believers reckon pioneered the cause of a European federal state. Ask a Dutch politician about Benelux (a word apparently coined in The Economist in August 1946 by our Belgian correspondent, who tried out Nebelux before deciding that Benelux was more euphonious), and the response is often a snort. At one recent EU summit the Belgian and Dutch leaders even shouted at each other. There is little enthusiasm in The Hague for Luxembourg's Jean-Claude Juncker as a candidate to be the first permanent president of the European Council.

In truth, the Dutch have parted company with their southern neighbours over the EU. Belgium and Luxembourg are almost the only card-carrying federalists left. Nowadays it would be easier to create a pioneering group of Eurosceptical countries than one hoping to march towards a United States of Europe. And everywhere (not just in Eurosceptical countries), the feeling has grown that the EU and its treaties are elite projects that may please self-serving Eurocrats but are remote from the concerns of ordinary citizens. That is the real moral of the tale of how the Dutch fell out of love with Europe—and it is one the EU's political leaders seem quite unready to deal with.